Grapefruit
by Lady Lex
Summary: Wilson meets the perfect woman on the bus and is certain that she will be the one to stop his vicious cycle of failed marriages and affairs. But he is unaware that she has a secret and is not so perfect, after all.
1. Chapter 1

**GRAPEFRUIT**

**Part One**

_I hate, hate, hate the bus, _thought James Wilson as he shivered and hugged himself, desperately trying to keep warm as the chilly north wind bit him in the face. The wind was especially cold that morning and Wilson thought it was just the warning of soon-to-come snow.

Either that or he was just not used to waiting at a bus stop in the freezing cold.

And he wasn't. He knew that right now, at this very moment, he could be sitting at home enjoying a hot cup of coffee. He wouldn't even have to leave for work for another hour.

But there he was, almost two hours before his shift started, waiting for the damn bus. And then once it got there, he had to sit on the uncomfortable seats, in between a bunch of annoying and chattering passengers for an hour. It took the bus that long to get from Wilson's stop to PPTH. Only because it took the most ridiculous route imaginable.

Besides that, the bus was never on time, so Wilson ended-up waiting outside much longer than he would've liked.

What he would've liked was to get his car back. But he had no car, thanks to Tritter. And he had Tritter on his ass every minute, thanks to House.

Why did everything always begin and end with House? Wilson was starting to get tired of it. He was ready to blame House for just about anything and everything.

Finally the bus arrived, no less than ten minutes late. Wilson reached into his pocket for change. He had enough, but only after searching underneath furniture and in between the couch cushions. Wilson barely ever carried spare change around. He had mostly bills and credit cards. The only change he _did_ have was in his desk drawer at work, in case he had a sudden craving for a can of soda or some chips from the snack machine.

Scowling at the bus driver, Wilson put his money into the collection box and looked for a seat.

_Just my luck, _thought Wilson. All the regular seats were occupied. He had to sit in the sideway ones, the ones that could be shifted and moved to allow wheelchairs to fit on the bus. Riding sideways for an hour was sure to make him nauseous. He heaved a huge sigh and plopped down on the seat, resting his briefcase beside him, not caring at the moment that he may be required to move it to allow someone else to sit down.

Wilson looked around. The guy on the right, next to him was having a conversation about last night's episode of _Survivor _with the bus driver. Wilson looked to the left, all the way down to the end. A teenager had an iPod plugged into his ears and it was playing too loudly. A young couple in the very back were stealing kisses from each other, every now and then. A young girl was engrossed in the latest Harry Potter novel. About halfway down, a guy in a suit was typing vigorously on a laptop computer, probably trying to get some work done that was due that very morning. Everyone else was either asleep, half asleep or talking with other people they knew or had come to know by riding the bus on a daily basis. Wilson envied them. _His _ride would be a long hour, while everyone else's would seem short, since they kept themselves busy.

Wilson's eyes then fell upon a woman sitting directly across from him. She looked to be about his age, with flaming red hair, green eyes and an obviously physically fit figure. She wasn't talking to anybody; she wasn't doing much of anything. She was just sitting there quietly, like Wilson was. Wilson was immediately attracted to her. A pretty face had always been one of his weaknesses. He'd already screwed-up three marriages because of a pretty face and a "funny" feeling. Wilson didn't have enough fingers to be able to count how many affairs he'd had. None of them every amounted to anything. Just a few moments of pleasure and whole lot of problems.

As long as she was sitting there looking so beautiful, Wilson decided to check her out. The long and slender expanse of her neck, her deep, bountiful cleavage, perfectly positioned, round breasts, slim and curvy waistline, long legs and small feet. And then his eyes moved back up again. Their eyes suddenly met and she blushed and smiled at Wilson. Briefly, he smiled back. Then he pretended to be interested in a strange red spot on the floor of the bus.

At that moment, the bus hit a huge bump or pothole in the road, causing several of the passengers to be lifted into the air and just about topple over. A few bags and purses fell on the dusty floor, the business man's laptop computer slipped off of his lap and hit the foot of another passenger. Wilson's briefcase fell and popped open, scattering papers everywhere. He cursed and bent down to collect them. The woman helped. As they picked them up, their hands touched, only briefly and Wilson's face flushed suddenly as the mere touch of her hand sent a warming shiver through him. Awkwardly, he threw the papers into his briefcase half-hazardly, not even bothering to put them in a neat pile. He'd worry about reorganizing them later.

"Hate it when that happens," the woman said as Wilson snapped his case shut and looked back up. She was smiling and was unaware of the captivating picture she made when she did so. Wilson smiled back, shifted in his seat, then decided to introduce himself. He held out his hand and the touch of her hand was suddenly, almost unbearable in its tenderness. His body tingled from the contact.

"James Wilson," he said as they shook, silently thanking God that his voice hadn't cracked.

"I'm Layna Bartlett," she answered. "It's nice to meet you. Always nice to see a new face on the bus." She leaned over and whispered, "The same people doing the same things every day… it gets to be a little tedious after a while."

"It must," Wilson nodded and, hoping that Layna wouldn't mind, he got up and took the empty space next to her. He placed his briefcase on the floor between his feet. As he sat, a strange and familiar scent filled his nostrils. It was not the stench of the bus, but _what was it? _Was that_… grapefruit? _Wilson let out a silent and shuddering sigh. Grapefruit. It was an aphrodisiac for Wilson and the scent enticed his senses. He fought back the urge to move up right against her to take in more of the grapefruit scent but instead slid a little in the opposite direction. He had only known this woman for five minutes and he was already hooked. He had that "funny" feeling. That was his excuse for cheating on all of his wives. He remembered telling House how there was always a woman who gave him that feeling and he couldn't resist. There were far too many interesting and beautiful women around for Wilson to settle down with just one. His affairs lasted longer than his marriages. And after awhile, he'd just get bored and move-on to the next girl. He was a classic womanizer.

It hadn't been that long ago that he had left Julie and stayed at House's apartment for a few days. Now he was shacked up in a hotel room, feeling lonely and pathetic, left to wonder why he had been so stupid. Why did he keep hurting his wives and sabotaging every marriage?

"So where are you headed?" Layna asked, breaking into Wilson's thoughts.

"Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital," he replied.

Layna looked interested.

"Oh really?" she said. "Are you an intern or one of the doctors?"

"I'm Head of Oncology," Wilson said, proudly. It always sounded so impressive to others.

"Well, of course!" Layna exclaimed as if she had just made an incredible discovery. "Dr. James Wilson! I read one of your essays in a medical journal last year. I think it was about the different forms of lymphatic cancer and some of the breakthroughs in finding a cure. Very intriguing." She nodded her approval. Wilson was genuinely impressed.

"Thank you," he said, slightly surprised. "You read medical journals?"

"Oh no," Layna laughed a little. "It was a free issue that came with the morning newspaper." Wilson couldn't help laughing, too. "Sorry to disappoint you." Layna added.

"You read my essay," Wilson said. "That's all that matters." He smiled at her, somewhat affectionately. "So what about you? Where are you going?" he inquired.

"Same place," she answered and Wilson was instantly happy. "Well, almost. The park across the street, actually. I thought I'd try and get some exercise in before it snows."

Wilson knew the park she spoke of. House went there quite often to hide from Cuddy. Well, at least until she found about it. It was there that House had made a connection with a confused and hurt rape victim. It was a jogging park and House said he liked to watch the people running and imagining that he could do it, too.

"It _does_ feel like it could snow any day now," Wilson agreed. "What are you going to do when it does?"

"Go to the gym," Layna replied, simply.

And thus began their hour-long conversation. Layna asked Wilson all about his job and talked about her life and her career. Before he knew it, they had arrived at the stop in front of the hospital. The hour hadn't seemed long at all. Wilson and Layna both bid the driver goodbye and climbed down the stairs and off of the bus, along with a few other people, most of who headed to the hospital.

"I had a nice time," Layna said.

"Me too," said Wilson. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"You bet!" Layna replied as she pulled her gorgeous hair into a ponytail and pushed the button to cross the street.

_Go ahead, ask her_. Wilson's brain told him. _You know you want to. Do it. Don't be stupid. Go on! You'll regret it if you don't._

"Well, bye." Wilson waved and headed for work, feeling like a complete idiot. He knew he should've asked Layna out for dinner. Or something. Now, if it snowed, he'd lost his only chance. Wilson could hardly believe that he was actually looking forward to taking the bus the next day.

"I love the bus!" he exclaimed.

* * *

Everyday, every morning, Wilson sat with Layna and they had long, very interesting conversations. And everyday, she smelled like sweet, fresh grapefruit and it was beginning to drive Wilson wild. The scent was becoming a drug and it made his head spin. But yet, he still hadn't asked her out. This was something that usually came easy to Wilson. If he liked someone enough and they gave him that "funny" feeling, he could ask them without a second thought. But he had no vehicle and his accounts were frozen, thanks to Tritter. Wilson was starting to wonder if he should just come clean with the anal cop. He was preventing Wilson from having a life.

Somehow, through their conversations, Wilson had brought up the whole Tritter/House fiasco.

"Don't you think your friend should just tell the truth so the rest of you can have your accounts unfrozen and you can get your car back?" Layna asked.

"Of course," said Wilson. "But he won't admit to anything. House only thinks about himself. He can't see outside the box. He doesn't care about the rest of us." Wilson sighed. Cutting a deal with Tritter was sounding better all the time.

"Well, _you do_," Layna pointed out. "If you truly think that Dr. House needs help, you should confess everything. I know he's your best friend, but you shouldn't feel that you have to lie to protect him." Layna put her hand over his and Wilson instinctively turned his hand around and intertwined their fingers. A sensuous wave of heat passed between them as they looked at each other. They remained silent for the remainder of the ride and Wilson's heart swelled with a feeling he had thought long since dead.

* * *

Wilson did at last, confess everything to Tritter. House was beyond pissed. But Wilson rode on the hope that one day, House would understand and maybe even thank him. In his own sarcastic and roundabout way, of course. At the very least, Wilson once again had control over his own bank accounts and renewed access to his vehicle. 

But he took the bus again. And all because of Layna. He simply couldn't tear himself away. He knew he was falling and falling _hard._

On the bus, Wilson sat next to Layna whose fingers drummed distractedly on her crossed knee. Wilson reached out and laced her fingers with his own. The personal contact warmed him and again he took in the fresh, sensual scent of pink grapefruit. He had a sudden urge to place soft kisses along her jaw line, all the way to her chin then up to her lips. She was staring out the window as Wilson reveled in her beauty. Her face was well-molded and feminine. She had soft green eyes and long lashes that swept down across her high, exotic cheekbones. Her hair was flaming red and practically begged Wilson to weave his hands through it and feel the fire.

Layna felt his eyes on her and she turned to gaze back at him. Reflected light glimmered over his handsome face like beams of icy radiance. He looked over her, seductively and she could feel the sexual magnetism that made him so self-confident.

Without breaking eye contact, Wilson reached over to pull the wire that would alert the driver to stop. His arm brushed lightly against Layna's face and she flushed instantaneously as her heart jolted and her pulse pounded.

They got off the bus, their hands still entwined and watched the bus leave. Wilson moved his hands to her waist and pulled her closer, gently, but with an air of command that she had to obey. He radiated a vitality that drew her in like a magnet.

"I have my car," Wilson declared, unable to say anything else at the moment.

"And you still took the bus!" Layna said in surprise.

Wilson nodded and drew her in closer so that both of his arms were around her waist. Her nearness was overwhelming and kindled feelings of fire. He projected an energy and power that undeniably attracted her. A strange, faintly eager look flashed in his intense, brown eyes.

"Yes," he replied. "I wondered… would you have dinner with me?"

"I'd love to." Layna said, breathlessly. Her arms were on his shoulders, her fingers slightly grasping at his trench coat. They shared an intense physical awareness of one another before separating, reluctantly.

"How does about seven o'clock sound?" Wilson suggested and she nodded, unable to speak. He was so very good-looking and she was surprised at how strongly she reacted to him.

Wilson pulled a pen and a blank sheet of paper from out of his briefcase, tore it in two and handed one piece to Layna. She jotted down her address and phone number and Wilson did the same. Well, he only wrote down his phone number since he had decided not to tell Layna that his home was currently a hotel room.

Wilson gazed at the piece of paper with her curvy handwriting on it as though it were a priceless treasure. She did the same before folding it up and tucking it safely in her pocket.

"I'll see you at seven then." Wilson said and then hurried away so he could get to work and get the day over with.

* * *

Wilson had made reservations at a very posh, very expensive restaurant. It was the same restaurant that he took all of his women to. It was almost ceremonial. Take them to a lavish restaurant, sip wine and eat curious food, then take them home and sleep with them. And not call the next day. Or ever again, for that matter. It was callous of him, Wilson knew all too well. It sounded more like something House would do. But it really was Wilson's way. The first time was always the most incredible. He knew it would never feel the same the second, third and fourth time. It would get boring, dull and repetitive. So he'd leave, anyway. 

Then there were his ex-wives. He had stayed long enough to get engaged and marry them. But he had stayed too long. They expected too much of him, he thought. They wanted a Knight in Shining Armour. But he was always working late and coming home in the wee small hours of morning, too tired to do much of anything except sleep. Lack of intimacy was very frustrating, so Wilson found times during the day to sneak away and see other women; to get satisfaction elsewhere. To cheat on his current wife. And when he _did_ manage to come home early, he had no desire whatsoever to be with his wife.

Maybe that was why the tables had turned and Julie cheated on _him_. It hadn't hurt as much as Wilson thought it would, mainly because he had been cheating as well. He wasn't stupid, he knew women had their sexual frustrations, too. They'd have to, with the way Wilson treated them. Maybe theirs were even greater than his own.

Wilson wondered what would happen between him and Layna. He really liked her, more than he had any other woman. She challenged him. She intrigued him. She was an ever-changing mystery. And somehow, she was above all the other women Wilson had ever been with. They had all been wrong for him. Because they were all below him. At least Layna seemed to be on the same level, or maybe a little bit above. But would she end up like all the others? Would he sleep with her and then discard her like and old shoe? Or maybe he would marry her. Things would be great for a while, then he'd run off and have an affair to fill some unknown void or desire. Would the vicious cycle ever end?

Wilson decided right then and there that this time, things would be different.

Different. Right.

The minute Wilson saw Layna in her figure-hugging, black silk dress with diamond-studded spaghetti straps (fake, of course) and dainty black heels, he wanted to take her right there at the front door. He could barely muster up a compliment.

"You look… _amazing_!" he finally blurted out and she smiled her thanks.

All through dinner, Layna talked and sipped champagne while Wilson mostly just stared. Her make-up was done to perfection, only to enhance, not overly done. The sides of her luscious red hair were pulled back with barrettes and a few soft wisps of hair delicately framed her face. His eyes fell to the creamy expanse of her neck and he thought about placing his lips there, breathing in that glorious, titillating scent. Even across the table, Wilson could smell the grapefruit.

"James, are you all right?" Layna asked, noticing that Wilson had only nibbled distractedly at his food. "You barely touched your meal."

Wilson poked at the baked potato on his plate with his fork.

"Is it Dr. House?" she inquired. "Is he upset with you?"

Wilson was mainly distracted by Layna and the way she looked. House was the furthest thing from his mind. But at least he could use that as an excuse.

"Yea, he's pissed," Wilson told her, sighing and putting down his fork. "He just thinks I'm a spineless rat. A tattle-tale."

Layna looked sympathetic.

"Well, I think it took a lot of courage to come clean," she declared, sincerely. "Especially when your best friend's freedom is at risk."

Wilson didn't feel courageous at all. Yes, he wanted to help House but his main reason for confession was to get his car and bank account back again so he could finally take Layna out. He didn't want to lie to her, either.

"I really only did it to get my car back," Wilson admitted, sheepishly.

"You really hate the bus that much?" she laughed and gave him an incredulous smile.

"Not since I met you," Wilson said and her cheeks turned a light shade of pink. "I wanted to take you out properly." he added. "I mean, how classy would it look for me to come and pick you up in a cab? Plus, I couldn't even pay for one."

They both laughed. What had started out as a misfortune for Wilson ended up being the beginning of something new and exciting. He never thought he'd meet anyone on the bus. And certainly not someone as amazing as Layna.

By the time they finished dinner, dessert and coffee, it was too late to do much of anything else. A movie would have been nice, but they had already missed the late show and there really wasn't anything interesting playing anyway. So, Wilson took Layna home. The moment they had been anticipating was now upon them. They were at her front door, gazing into each other's eyes and holding both hands. It was a perilous attraction. The want and need they had for one another was unbearable. Only a short time and one dinner and Layna dared to wonder what it would be like to be crushed within Wilson's embrace. Wilson was struggling with similar feelings of his own. He wanted to feel every part of her pressed against him. Her lips on his, her breasts against his chest, her hands in his hair, her softness against his hardness… so much of everything.

"Layna," He pulled her closer and she tingled as he said her name. He wove his fingers through her hair, taking his time, memorizing the softness of it. Her hands went around his neck, their faces only inches apart. Her closeness was like a drug, lulling Wilson to sweet euphoria. Layna couldn't miss the musky smell of him as he pressed her closer. The warmth of his arms was so male, so bracing. She felt her toes curl in anticipation. Wilson's fingertips traced the outline of Layna's face and she wound her arms inside his jacket and around his back. And then, his lips slowly descended to meet hers. He smothered them with demanding mastery and the feeling sent a shock wave through her entire body. She returned the kiss with reckless abandon. As Wilson roused her passion, his own grew stronger and he felt his pants tighten around his waist. He moved his lips to her jaw line, her ear and her neck, at last entirely taking in the sweet, intoxicating scent of grapefruit. Wilson's pants tightened even more and he realized they were quickly approaching the point of no return.

It was too soon, too fast.

Wilson hurtled back to earth as reality struck and at last, reluctantly, they parted a few inches.

"Layna, you're wonderful," Wilson whispered into her hair. He loved everything about her. How she looked, how she felt and how she tasted. "Can we… have dinner again?"

Layna nodded and tried to pull her drifting thoughts together. Without looking away, she backed out of his grasp.

"Tomorrow night, six o'clock?" Wilson asked.

"Perfect," Layna replied as she unlocked her front door. "Good night, James. Pleasant dreams."

"Pleasant dreams," Wilson repeated as she closed the door.

He headed for his car, got in and sat there for a very long time, thinking. He had felt the strong passion within himself and had almost completely lost control. Normally, he would have succumbed to the sexual desire but somehow, this time, he wanted to wait. With Layna, everything had to be perfect.

Layna was laying in the drowsy warmth of her bed, thinking. She was astonished at the sense of fulfillment she felt. James Wilson had taken her so far from there, only with his kiss. She recalled the ecstasy of being held against his strong body and she hungered from the memory of his mouth on hers. When was the last time she had truly enjoyed herself with a man? She couldn't recall. Maybe never, never this much. Wilson was her Knight in Shining Armour, as he had been to every other women he'd ever been with. The only question was, how long it would it last? Because Layna had a secret.

**End Part One**


	2. Chapter 2

**GRAPEFRUIT**

**Part Two**

As the week rolled on, Layna and Wilson went to dinner every night and once, only for coffee when Wilson ended up working late one evening. Each date was better than the last and each one ended in sensuous bliss. But it was becoming more and more difficult for Wilson to keep his hands on the table. He wanted Layna more than ever and she had even begun to recognize her own needs. And all she could think about was him. His face found its way into her thoughts and dreams, almost haunting her. And each time they parted for the night, they both felt an extraordinary void.

All they ever did was "go to dinner". It was starting to bore them both and Wilson was running out of restaurants to take her to. But then one evening at Layna's front porch, Wilson asked her if he could cook for her. He had amazing culinary skills and a ton of secret recipes and he was eager to show Layna just how amazing they were. Layna seemed excited at the idea and insisted that he buy the groceries and do the cooking at her house. Wilson was glad of that. At least he wouldn't have to make up an excuse so Layna wouldn't find out about his current living conditions.

Wilson had never been inside Layna's house before, so when he entered, he was in awe. It definitely had a woman's touch. And everything was neat, clean, dust-free and virtually spotless. The kitchen was lit-up for Wilson and a warm fire was glowing in the dim light of the living room.

"So what are you going to cook?" Layna asked as they greeted each other with a kiss. "Or is it a surprise?" She eyed the grocery bags with curiosity.

Wilson had decided to make his famous spaghetti and meatballs, complete with homemade garlic toast, but he was suddenly having second thoughts about it. It seemed so bland compared to what they had grown accustomed to at all the fancy restaurants.

"Well, I was thinking," Wilson said, setting the grocery bags on the counter in the kitchen. "Maybe we should go out for dinner… again." He added, looking unsure.

"But I thought you wanted to cook for me?" Layna protested, looking disappointed. "What's wrong? Are you afraid I won't like it or something?"

"It's just spaghetti and meatballs." Wilson said, half-heartedly.

"Great!" Layna exclaimed. "Spaghetti sounds fabulous. To tell you the truth, I was getting kind of fed-up with all those ritzy restaurants," she admitted. "Not that I didn't appreciate you taking me to those places. It'll be nice to know for once, just _what_ I'm eating." They shared a laugh.

"Okay, then," Wilson agreed and began unpacking the bags. "I just thought… well, I figured you for… I thought maybe you were a… _cultured_ woman. I thought fancy and ritzy may have been your style."

"Well, isn't pasta Italian?" she mused. "Is that not cultured?"

Wilson laughed and nodded. "Yes, I suppose it is. You want to help?" he asked.

"I'd love to!" Layna agreed, excited at the prospect of sharing something new with him.

And so they went to work on Wilson's secret recipe that he had memorized, of course. He thawed out the frozen beef in the microwave, while Layna started chopping up green peppers and an onion. Wilson started cooking the meat in a sauce pan, adding tomato paste, canned tomatoes, onion, green peppers and his own special blend of spices and seasonings. Letting the sauce simmer, Wilson added more spices and seasoning to the leftover, uncooked meat which they would make into bite-sized meatballs. He showed Layna how to make the balls and soon, they were rolling meat in their hands and seemed to have enough to last until Doomsday.

"I guess we made too much," Layna laughed as she looked at the array of meatballs all over her kitchen counter.

"I'll just make extra pasta, then there'll be leftovers for lunch," Wilson said, knowing that House would get to his lunch before he did. He made a mental note to pack two containers of spaghetti to bring to work, so they could _both _have one.

"You've done this before," said Layna with an animated smile, as she pulled out some plastic storage containers from the cupboard and stacked them next to the stove so Wilson could fill them later.

Wilson went back to work, spreading homemade garlic butter on slices of French bread to toast in the oven, while Layna set the table for two, complete with candles and red wine.

A little over an hour later, Wilson and Layna were at the table, sipping wine, munching on toast and slurping spaghetti. It was silent, except for Layna who moaned with joy at every mouthful. Afterwards, she poured herself and Wilson more wine, complimented him in every way possible and insisted he give her the recipe.

"I don't know," Wilson teased. "It's a secret. Passed down for generations."

"You twit!" Layna flicked her napkin at him as they got up and started to clear the table. "It's spaghetti!"

Of course, Wilson was only too glad to share the recipe with her. He wrote it down for her and she put it away, tucked inside a recipe book.

Together, they cleaned and dried the dishes and loaded up the dishwasher with whatever they could. Then Layna cleaned off the countertops while Wilson spooned the leftovers into three separate plastic containers.

_One for me, one for Layna, one for House, _he calculated mentally and placed them in the refrigerator.

They made their way into the living room and Wilson took a seat on the couch. Layna added another log to the fire and poked at the others, stoking an even brighter, warmer fire. Then she joined Wilson on the couch. They were silent for a long time, just starting at the fire, thoroughly enjoying the comfort and warmth that radiated from it.

"I just love the smell of a real fire," Layna commented. "I never could understand why some people would rather have a gas fireplace."

Wilson could have cared less about how the fire smelled. The only scent he was interested in was grapefruit. And again, it was there. On her.

"Layna, what is that?" Wilson finally ventured to ask her. "You always smell refreshingly like grapefruit. I just can't get enough." He breathed deeply in and out and sighed with pleasure.

"Well, that's what it is," she told him, amused. "It's a grapefruit body spray. Do you have thing for grapefruit or something?" she inquired, playfully.

Wilson took her hands into his and pulled her closer.

"No, I have a thing for you, Layna," he said, his warm breath fanning her face. "And that grapefruit… it just makes me want you in the worst way possible."

"Then take me, James Wilson." she challenged.

Her challenge, filled with such erotic possibilities, had an immediate effect on him. And now, there was no turning back.

He let go of her hands and caressed her cheek with his thumb. His gentle touch made her quiver. He leaned forward suddenly and covered her lips with his own. He gave her a tender kiss and his hand cascaded through her hair, almost instantaneously. To Wilson, kissing Layna was one of the best things in the world. Everything about her excited him. Her lips, her hair, her eyes, her body. He had it all to himself this moment and considered himself the luckiest man in the world.

They parted and smiled at each other. Wilson saw a depth in Layna's green eyes that he had never seen before. He could clearly see the depths of passion. Wilson reached for the buttons on Layna's blouse. With trembling fingers, he slowly undid every button. Wilson wanted to see, discover, touch and taste what lay beneath the fabric. He slowly undid them, letting the silky material glide in and out between his fingers. Layna laid back onto the arm of the sofa, allowing Wilson to slowly disrobe her. He accepted her invitation, wanting and needing to discover what lay beneath her clothes. When the last button was undone, Wilson kissed Layna again, wildly and desperately. He was about to open her blouse, but Layna took his hand and guided it to her belt. Wilson undid the belt and slid the skirt down her legs, over her feet and completely off. Layna's blouse went past her waist to Wilson couldn't yet see anything below her waistline, until he opened the blouse and slid it off her shoulders and down her arms. She was wearing a lacy purple bra and matching French-cut panties. Wilson eagerly ran his hand up her leg, to the height of which her panties were cut. He then kissed the tops of Layna's breasts, which the bra didn't cover. She felt heat fan through her as he ran his thumb over her breasts, then cupped each one in his hand.

Wilson's breath caught in his throat. He had never seen anything so breathtakingly beautiful in his entire life. He stood up and took off all of his clothes, except for his boxer shorts. He walked over to her, intending merely to brush another kiss across her peaches and cream cheek. But then he looked into the depths of her eyes and was seduced by the yearning he saw reflected there. A yearning that was part love, part soul-deep need and all wrapped up in desire. His good intentions vanished.

He leaned over until his mouth was scarcely a breath away from hers. Then he traced her lips with the tip of his tongue.

She moaned, her tongue searching greedily for his, finding it, drawing it slowly into her mouth, the way she wanted Wilson slowly entering her body. The want became an out-of-control, hotter-than-hot flame of desire. It sparked, sizzled and flamed through her body like wildfire.

Wilson wanted Layna so much, it hurt. His body tight with need, he kissed her again and again. Each time letting his tongue coax her, tease her. And each time she took him slowly into her hot sweetness. Then he did it again, only this time she was through with playing. This time, the flame had been stoked into a blazing inferno. This time, she sucked his tongue inside her mouth with such ravenous need, it literally brought him to his knees.

Kneeling in front of her, their lips were sealed in a can't-get-enough-of-you kiss. Then his fingers curled slowly around her ankles, rested there momentarily, then began an upward sweep as his hands slid up the inside calves of her slender legs, then around to the outside and back again. Still kissing her, his hands continued upward over her slightly parted knees, until finally, both his hands rested on her knees, he pulled back. Layna moaned and tried to bring him back into her mouth, but Wilson had other ideas.

"Layna," he whispered. She opened slumberous eyes but nothing about her breathing was languid in any way. Her breathing was heavy, hot; her breasts rising and falling as arousal swept her body, burned her body. Holding her prisoner with his eyes, Wilson's fingers trailed over the satin smooth skin of her thighs, stroking, caressing, sending her headlong to a madness she craved.

Being a doctor gave Wilson a definite advantage. He knew all the right places to touch and as he searched for pleasure points, his expert hands sent her to even higher levels of ecstasy.

When his knuckles brushed the lacy barrier covering the vee at the apex of her thighs, Layna's eyes widened and she urgently called his name.

"James…" His name was a breathless sigh. Through the lace of her panties, he stroked her tummy, her hips, finally to the center of heat that flamed higher and higher with each stroke, each caress.

Wilson leaned forward, urging her knees further apart, urging her to give him access to that which he sought. And she did. One hand slid over her tummy and around to her buttocks, while the other cupped the center of her heated moistness, his thumb gently skating back and forth over the tiny nub that was the furnace of all-consuming flame. Layna closed her eyes as ring after ring of pure, sweet ecstasy expanded in her ever-widening circles while at the same time, spiraling in on itself, creating more pleasure, more need, more ecstasy. Endless, the pleasure was endless, yet pulling her closer and closer to the point when it would end in sweet glory.

"Look into my eyes," Wilson whispered. "Look at me, Layna."

When she did as he commanded, what she saw reflected in his eyes was her own passion, her own overwhelming need. The flames went higher, taking her deeper into the heat, closer to the center of the fire he and he alone controlled; the center of the must-have-or-die fire.

With their gazes locked together, he leaned into her, forcing her legs even further apart and pulled her to him in one fierce motion. As her body made startling intimate contact with his, he planted his tongue so deep in her mouth, Layna's breath wedged in her throat. Instinctively, she wrapped her slender legs around his waist. Then both his hands were kneading her buttocks, holding her to him, grinding her sweet heat against him until she thought that this must be what it would be like to die from pleasure. But it wasn't enough. She wanted to be closer.

When they finally broke the kiss long enough to take a deep breath, she arched her body, her head falling back in a posture so totally feminine, so totally arousing, that all else was driven from Wilson's mind. He thought his body might burst form the need to bury himself so deep in her body, neither would know where one began and the other ended.

"James…" she finally managed to breathe. With her hands on his shoulders, her fingers dug into his flesh while he rotated her buttocks, moving her against him in sweet torture.

"Please…" she begged. She still wasn't close enough.

"Layna, oh Layna…" Wilson was ready to die.

Still holding her to him, he rose to his feet and walked towards the rug in front of the fireplace. In those few steps, the boxers dropped from his body and he was splendidly, gloriously naked. In those few steps, the friction of her body against his was almost more than she could take, yet more what she needed. More friction, more heat. More Wilson.

And he gladly obliged. With a breathtaking downward sweep, she was free from her bra and panties. Then it was heat to heat, need to need, man to woman as they came together as one and let the fire consume them, burn down around them, then rise higher and higher until they were the flame. They were the fire.

* * *

Sometime in the middle of the night, Wilson had managed to collect some pillows and a blanket from the couch to make himself and Layna more comfortable. When he awoke the following morning, he propped himself up on one elbow and watched Layna sleep. He felt as though he were looking at her for the first time and all the feelings from the night before were still there. Normally, it would be forgettable and he would just look over at the woman he had just slept with and think, _Oh yea. Right. _And then he would leave. But with Layna, he could stay there all day. 

Wilson found his boxers on the floor beside him in a heap and the rest of his clothing - shirt, tie, pants, belt, socks - scattered around the room along with Layna's. He slid into his shorts and shivered slightly. The fire in the fireplace had long since burnt-out. He found his watch on the coffee table, checked the time and nearly flipped his lid. It was past ten already and he was over an hour late for work. He knew he had patients all morning, too. He didn't have a second to spare. No time to fix his hair, shower, have breakfast or even change his clothes. He had to go right away.

He felt bad for leaving Layna in such a hurry, but he had no choice and surely she'd understand. Plus, he had her number and she had his, so he'd definitely call her. After what they had shared and how amazing it had been, there was no way Wilson could not call her and see her again.

Gently brushing her hair aside, he bent down and lightly kissed the nape of her neck, noticing with a satisfied smile that the grapefruit scent still lingered on her.

As Wilson headed out the door with his leftover containers of spaghetti, Layna awoke. She wrapped the blanket around herself and watched him from the window. She wasn't sad to see him leave, nor was she happy. Only a glazed look of despair spread over her face and she choked back tears.

"Oh, James," she sighed. "I hope you understand. I hope you understand when I don't call you."

**End Part Two**

_Author's Note: I dedicate the erotic scene in this chapter to all the Wilson-worshippers out there. All you ladies who, like me, can only dream of an experience like that with the boy-wonder oncologist. I didn't focus a whole lot on Wilson in that one scene, more so what he was doing, not what he was feeling, because in one episode, Bonnie mentions how Wilson knows how to please a woman. So there you go. Hope you enjoyed it. The final part will be out by the weekend, with any luck._


	3. Chapter 3

**GRAPEFRUIT **

**Part Three**

Wilson called Layna many times that day, but there was no answer. He left several messages on her answering machine and voice mail and even text-messaged her, but still got nothing back. No return phone call or text-message.

He decided that she must've been busy. She had talked about going to the gym, being that the weather was getting colder by the day and it just wasn't any fun to go jogging in the park in the freezing cold. He figured Layna would call him as soon as she found time. The sad part was that Wilson had no idea that she had already made the decision to never call him again.

Meanwhile, Wilson's day hadn't been going all that great. First, he caught it from Cuddy for being so outrageously late and his patients weren't exactly pleased at the fact that their oncologist was behind schedule. _Really_ behind schedule. A _full hour _behind schedule!

Worse yet, House was making every possible effort to completely avoid Wilson. This was especially difficult because Wilson thought he would burst at the seams if he didn't tell someone about his night of bliss with Layna. There was really nobody else he could talk to, either. House was, after all, his best friend and most likely the only person who would want to hear every tiny detail about Wilson's night.

Wilson didn't get to have lunch until after two and as he headed for the lunch room, his stomach growled as he thought of the leftover spaghetti that awaited him in the fridge.

House was there, eating his usual Ruben and didn't even look up when Wilson entered the room. Wilson sighed and went over to the fridge. When he opened it, he was surprised to see that both containers of spaghetti were still there, untouched. House hadn't taken one.

"House," said Wilson , taking one of the containers out of the fridge and placing it in the microwave. "You didn't take one of my lunches. That's kind of strange."

House scowled at him.

"Why would I want to do that?" he snapped, bitterly. "So you can run and tell Tritter that Greg House stole your lunch?"

"One of them was for you , anyway," Wilson informed him in a quiet voice.

"I can take care of myself!" House retorted, finishing off his Ruben, then limping out of the room, muttering under his breath.

Wilson sighed again, feeling hurt. He almost wanted to apologize to House, but for what? He had only told the truth, even it was to save his own ass. But it was the right thing to do. At least _he'd _thought it was. And Layna thought it was, too.

As Wilson sat down and began eating, he thought about his new found love. He remembered how much she had loved his cooking and he wondered if she had eaten the leftovers yet and enjoyed them as much. He wondered if she was sitting somewhere, at that very moment, thinking about the night before. Wilson had never felt anything quite like that. Never. Not even through his many affairs. Even his wives had never made him feel the way Layna had. And he knew he had put his whole being into it and made her feel unbelievable pleasure and ecstasy. He was quite proud of himself; he knew how to make a woman feel wonderful and aroused with passion. Even if the sex wasn't all that great (which wasn't the case this time), every woman would still agree that James Wilson was an extraordinary lover.

Wilson couldn't see any faults after making love to Layna. Everything had been perfect. She had responded so eagerly to everything he tried; everything he did. And there was so much more he could do. This was it. She was the one. Wilson knew it; could feel it. Layna would be the one he would marry for good.

* * *

After waiting for more than three days for Layna to return his many phone calls, Wilson grew worried. He was paranoid, thinking that he had done something wrong or worse, something horrible might have happened to her. Even if he _was_ paranoid, he still missed her. A lot. So much, he could barely concentrate at work. 

So, that day, Wilson booked himself an extra half-hour at lunch so he could go to Layna's house. That was the only thing left to do. He prayed she would be there, safe and sound and would give him a perfectly good reason for why she hadn't called. No matter what the reason, Wilson had already forgiven her. He couldn't wait until she opened her front door, threw her arms around him, kissed him and told him how much she'd missed him. And he knew she'd smell like grapefruit again.

Wilson had stopped to buy some flowers. He chose pink and white carnations and wrote on the card: _Two weeks down; a lifetime to go._

He rang the doorbell and hid the flowers behind his back. It was a good thing he did too, because a strange man answered the door.

"Can I help you?" the man asked, since Wilson hadn't said a word mainly because he was so shocked at seeing this man at Layna's door. Who was he?

_Probably the pool man or something, _thought Wilson, even thought Layna didn't happen to _have_ a pool.

"Uh, hi," said Wilson, mustering up a smile. "I'm looking for Layna." He tightened his grip on the flowers behind his back.

The man stared at Wilson for a moment, then hollered over his shoulder for Layna. She appeared in the doorway a minute later and Wilson's heart skipped a beat. He had almost forgotten how beautiful she was. He smiled brightly at her, because she was his girl. He felt incredibly lucky.

Layna's expression was solemn and a look of tired sadness passed over her features. She refused to meet Wilson's eager, brown eyes.

The man looked at both of them for several minutes, then left them in privacy. Layna grabbed her coat and stepped outside. They regarded one another for a long time before either one of them spoke.

"James, what are you doing here?" Layna asked with an exasperated sigh.

"I'm here to see you, of course!" He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. She didn't smile. "I've missed you, Layna." He produced the flowers from behind his back and she looked at them as though they were contaminated.

"You shouldn't have come here." she said in a barely audible whisper.

Wilson took a step back in shock. What was she saying?

"When you didn't return any of my calls or messages, I _had_ to come here," he explained, as she looked down at her feet. "I thought something happened to you. I was worried." She still didn't take the flowers, so Wilson let his arm drop to his side.

When Layna looked back up and finally looked him in the eye, tears were trickling down her cheeks.

"Layna, for God's sake, what's _wrong_?" Wilson asked, very concerned. He dropped the flowers she obviously didn't want on the ground and took her into his arms. She arched her back and wiggled free. Wilson was shocked at her rejection.

"Layna-"

"I… I'm sorry," she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I should have told you… before… well, before…."

"Told me _what_?" Wilson demanded, urgency ringing in his voice. Wilson thought it had to be awful, like she was dying or something, since she was having a hard time getting the words out. He was scared. He didn't know _what_ she was going to say. She leaned against the porch railing, holding back more tears and searching for words.

"Does this have anything to do with that guy who answered the door?" Wilson asked, suddenly afraid of the answer. Layna nodded. Nothing could have prepared him for what she said next.

"That guy who answered the door…" She turned her back on Wilson. "He's… my husband."

Wilson felt like he had been punched in the stomach and his breath wedged uncomfortably in his throat. He clutched the railing for support, afraid he might keel over in shock at this new piece of information.

"Your _husband_?" Wilson repeated and she nodded, almost ashamed. "You're _married_?" She nodded again

Wilson had racked his brain, trying to figure out if Layna had any faults. And he had found it. He wished he hadn't.

"So you see-" Layna began, but Wilson cut her off, abruptly. He had caught his breath and was now angry.

"I can tell you what I _don't_ see, Layna!" Wilson was shouting and his voice echoed in the porch area. "I don't see a ring on your finger! I don't see your husband out here trying to kill me for sleeping with his wife-"

"I haven't told him yet," Layna interrupted in a small, meek voice.

"- and I really don't see what the big deal is!" Wilson finished. "You don't know this about me Layna, but I was married _three times _before I met you. And I cheated on every one of my wives."

"Are you proud of that?" Layna demanded, her eyes narrowing.

"Of course not," Wilson answered, lowering his voice an octave. "And it's not like I didn't care or regret what I did. But it never stopped. I couldn't stop. I traded love and bliss for lust. Then I woke up one morning in a hotel room wondering why I was so stupid." Layna's eyes opened very wide upon learning this. "And then I met you, Layna. And you are the one who made me want to end this awful cycle. You are that person."

Layna sighed heavily and leaned against the door, putting her head in her hands.

"I can't be that person for you, James," she told him, seriously. "I'm married and that's the way it is."

"Do you love him?" Wilson inquired.

"Excuse me?"

"It's a simple question, Layna," Wilson said. "You either love the guy or you don't."

"Did you love your wives?" Layna asked, avoiding Wilson's question.

"Yes," Wilson answered. "I always said I loved them. I even told House-" Wilson suddenly remembered a conversation he'd had with House about how he felt about his wife at the time, Julie.

"Told House what?" asked Layna, when Wilson had stopped in mid-sentence.

"I told him I loved my wife and he said '_You certainly love saying it_.'". It seemed to make sense now.

They stood there silently and deep in thought.

"Dr. House had a point," Layna said, nodding her head. "Maybe we loved saying it so much, we truly started to believe it."

Wilson approached Layna and took her hands into his. She didn't pull away.

"Are you saying you don't love your husband?" he asked, gently and with a tiny twinge of hope.

"I don't know," she replied, he voice breaking with sobs. She fell into Wilson's arms and cried. "What I _do_ know is I can't love you both. You made me feel so… so romantic. So intelligent. So… _feminine. _Nobody has ever made me feel those things, so truly and so completely. But I know in my heart I have to do the right thing." she declared. "I have to tell Rodney or it'll eat me alive." She looked up into Wilson's eyes. "I love Rodney."

Wilson literally felt his heart breaking. The hurt and pain was almost unbearable.

"Then why did you feel the need to be with someone else?" Wilson wanted more answers. He wanted a way around this. He wanted Layna. "Rodney's obviously lacking in something."

"He's always away, he's hardly ever home," she answered. "It gets lonely. You're not the first one, James." she admitted. "But you are by far, the most amazing. When I met you," she sighed, dreamily. "Well, you know."

Wilson did know. It all sounded so familiar. They'd been to Utopia and now they were back home, where nothing made sense.

A gust of wind came up and blew the scent of grapefruit into Wilson's nose. But he was so hurt that it no longer affected him the way it used to. It did nothing. And he did nothing as Layna began to go back into the house, after leaving Wilson's warm embrace.

"I have to do the right thing," Layna said. "And that means telling Rodney and… never seeing you again. James… I'm so sorry." Before Wilson could protest, she burst into tears and slammed the door, leaving him standing there feeling like he had been smacked in the face and his heart ripped out of his chest.

After it finally sunk-in that he had been dumped in the worst way possible, Wilson hot-footed it to his car, trampling on the flowers he had dropped. He didn't want to be standing there when Layna told Rodney what they had done. He'd probably want to kill Wilson.

Holding back tears, he drove back to PPTH, realizing that he had traded his lunch for a broken heart. He went to the staff lunch room anyway. If House wasn't going to eat the spaghetti, he may as well. No sense letting it go to waste. But when he got there, he saw the empty container sitting on the counter and House standing there, eating a bowl of what Wilson guessed, was probably somebody else's dessert.

"Great spaghetti, Wilson!" House complimented him. Wilson was surprised that House was actually talking to him again. Too bad he wasn't in the mood to talk.

"Want some grapefruit?" House asked and Wilson thought he was making some sort of cruel joke, even though he knew nothing about Wilson's time with Layna.

"What the hell is _that _supposed to mean?" Wilson retorted.

"What does it mean?" House repeated, shocked at the oncologist's reaction. "It means do you want some grapefruit or not?" He showed Wilson his bowl that _did_, in fact, contain slices of grapefruit.

"No thanks," Wilson replied, sighing heavily. "I hate grapefruit."

**END**

_Author's Note: Okay, I know what you are all thinking. You are wondering why I keep abusing Wilson. I honestly don't know, especially when I have a damn crush on the guy! LOL! I just get ideas. I really do love Wilson, though! Please review. I've had so very few, it makes me sad. I think readers hate it or something. I'm paranoid_


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